


Road Trip

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Car Sex, Explicit Language, F/M, Fellatio, Semi-Public Sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 15:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16875216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: The reader receives a request from Ketch asking for help hunting a djinn and decides to take a road trip.





	Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr

The message was simple, a set of coordinates and nine words: Up for a road trip? Let’s have some fun.

Looking up the location, you typed back: Sounds like a date. Give me two hours.

Setting down your phone to pack up your gear, you were ready and on the road in minutes, adrenaline pumping as the miles flew by. In almost no time, you were pulling up to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of a town you hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. And there he was, leaning on his motorcycle dressed in casual civilian clothes, leather jacket fitting like a glove.

“Been waiting long, Ketch?” you questioned as soon as you stepped out of your car.

“Hardly,” he replied, “You said give you two hours, so I gave you two hours. I pulled up moments before you did.”

“Silly me,” you said wryly. “So what gives- I didn’t hear any chatter about a case around here,” you said.

“That isn’t surprising- the police have yet to reveal all of the details to the press, so no one has made the connection yet. Fortunately, we have other methods to collect our information,” Ketch explained, no small amount of smugness in his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you popped the trunk of your car, lifting up the false bottom to reveal your weapons stash. “I get it, the Men of Letters are amazing and wonderful and so much more efficient than us regular ol’ hunters.”

“You said it, not me. And yet you still refuse my offers to join.”

Hand on your hip, you turned to face him. “I don’t like being told what to do. What are we hunting anyway?”

“A djinn,” he replied, graciously dropping the conversation. “I’ve never hunted a djinn before- this should be quite exciting.”

“I don’t know if ‘exciting’ is the word I’d use,” you said thinking back to the one and only time you’d faced a djinn. “Don’t let ‘em touch you- that venom is no joke.”

“Speaking from experience?” he questioned innocently.

“Don’t be an ass; I’ve seen the file you guys have on me- I know you know I’ve hunted one before.”

“Forgive me my dear,” he apologized with a slight smirk, “I thought it best to bring along someone with experience to watch my back.”

Making a noncommittal sound, you watched as he assembled his gun, the cross tattoo on the back of his hand catching your eye; it seemed so out of place on the stuffy Brit. Shaking away the thought, you armed yourself with your favorite silver blade, rooting around in your supplies for the jar of lambs blood. After your last run in with a djinn, it never left your trunk, readily available should you need it.

Finally locating it mixed in with various herbs and potion ingredients, you dipped your blade in. Turning to Ketch, you held out an expectant hand, taking his knife when he handed it to you. You took care to coat every inch of the blood, keenly aware of his eyes fixed on your every move. Ketch never made his attraction to you a secret, and there was something about the British hunter that drew you in. His cocky arrogance amused you more than it offended, especially since he had the skills to back it up.

Handing back the blade, you asked, “Ready?”

He smirked, “Always.”

You rolled your eyes in amusement. “Let’s do this.”

As one, you headed for the entrance, your movements in perfect sync. With Ketch at your side, the djinn didn’t stand a chance.

———–

“Well, that was invigorating.”

“Invigorating? Please, that hunt was a cake walk and you know it.”

“Only because you and I work so well together.”

Unable to think of a reply, you took a sip of your drink, glancing lazily around the room. The bar was packed to the gills, rowdy patrons competing to be heard over the blaring music. You felt right at home, enjoying a post-hunt drink with Ketch. The Brit was less at ease; clearly this wasn’t the type of place he typically frequented. As far as he was concerned, the bars only saving grace was a surprisingly decent selection of top shelf liquor.

He insisted on paying, and since it was on the Men of Letters dime, you didn’t feel bad about ordering some premium scotch. The alcohol burned pleasantly as you savored the taste, humming in satisfaction. Ketch squirmed a little in his seat at the sound, something that didn’t escape your notice.

“I have a question for you,” Ketch said, peering at you from over the rim of his glass before setting it down with a soft clink.

“Shoot,” you replied, taking another sip of the smooth scotch, enjoying the slight burn and warmth in your belly.

“Why do you keep refusing my offer to join the British Men of Letters? Obviously you’re not opposed to working with us on a one-on-one basis, so why the hesitation?” he asked, eyeing you intently.

Caught off-guard by the question, it was a little unnerving to have him so focused on you, so you took another swallow of alcohol before answering. There was no tactful way to put it, so you decided to go with blunt honesty. “Because I’m no one’s bitch.”

“Beg pardon?”

With a sigh, you downed the remains of the scotch, grimacing slightly. “The ‘old men’ as you call them- they’re not looking for allies. They’re looking for attack dogs. They want to use hunters, not partner up with us. Call me crazy, but I’ve got a problem with that. Sure they’ve got all sorts of toys and gadgets, but at the end of the day, they want to be able to say ‘sic ‘em’ and have us hop to. It’s like I told you, I don’t like being told what to do.”

“And yet, you seem to have no problem working with me,” he pointed out.

“You’re different. Everyone else- Mick and all the others- they’re soft. They wouldn’t last a day out in the field, you know it and I know it. There’s no way I’m taking orders from someone like that, I don’t give a damn how fancy the toys are. But you…you know what it’s like. You’re out there getting your hands dirty. I know that I can at least trust you not to get me killed because you don’t know which end of the knife goes in the other guy.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Well, you certainly have a way with words. And you’re right- when I first saw who was being sent to recruit the American hunters, I knew they would be met with some difficulty. Mick is not experienced when it comes to combat, nor is he expected to be. This has worked to our detriment, I’m sorry to say.”

“No hunter worth their salt is gonna trust someone with hands as soft as his,” you confirmed. “Which is why no matter how many times you ask, my answer is always gonna be no. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy our little hunts on the side, but I know that if I do say yes I’ll be answering to someone who’s all theory and no experience.”

“True enough,” he agreed, “and I can’t really say I blame you. At any rate, I think you might be a little more than Mick- or any of them- could handle.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be.”

He finished the rest of his scotch in one long pull. You stared at the bob of his Adam’s apple without meaning to. Between the booze, the leftover adrenaline from the hunt, and your unintended heart to heart, you were feeling a little restless. If he noticed your attention, he gave no sign, shrugging out of his jacket to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Your focus drifted to his muscled forearms.

“Something wrong?”

Your gaze snapped back up to his face, noting the faintly amused look in his eyes. He wasn’t as oblivious to your staring as you’d thought. “Nope,” you replied, just tipsy enough to throw good manners to the wind. “I’ve just never seen you without at least six layers on, that’s all.”

He sat back, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, well, I wasn’t aware that my wardrobe was subject of such scrutiny.”

“Ha ha, laugh it up,” you shot back sarcastically. Pleasantly buzzed, you debated the wisdom of voicing your next question. It was one that had been nagging at the back of your mind for a while. “Ketch, why did you call me today?”

He seemed confused by the question. “Because of the hunt.”

“But why do you keep calling me up for hunts, even though you know I’m not gonna join your organization. D’you really expect me to believe there aren’t any other hunters you could have called in for the djinn? Or that you even needed the help? I’ve seen you work- you could have handled today on your own.”

“I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” he teased. You didn’t reply, keeping your gaze steady as you waited for a response. Ketch was the first to look away, toying with his glass as he said, “You fascinate me. The way you hunt, your stubborn independence…it’s captivating in a way few others are. There’s also the fact that you’re a wildly attractive woman.”

Huffing out a surprised laugh at his honesty, you decided to throw caution to the wind. The tension between you had simmered long enough and if he was interested, then you were willing to see where things led. Leaning slightly forward in your seat, your fingers danced on the rim of your glass. Underneath the table, you ran your foot up his calf delicately, keeping the touch light. He shifted in place, not expecting you to be so forward. But he didn’t shy away.

Jaw clenched, he leveled you with a heated gaze. “What are you playing at?”

“Nothing,” you replied, “I just think it’s time we cut through the bullshit.”

“Don’t start something unless you intend to see it through,” he warned.

Chin lifting in defiance, you tutted. “Ketch, either put up or shut up.”

Nostrils flaring at the challenge, he fished out his wallet, slamming a couple twenties on the table before donning his jacket again and tugging you to your feet. Stomach clenching in anticipation, you willingly trailed him out the door, weaving through the crowded bar with ease. Outside in the cooling night air, Ketch pulled you along to where his motorcycle was parked next to your car. Impatient, you slipped your hand free from his hold and shoved him against the hood, on him in an instant.

The kiss was fierce and demanding, all of the pent up tension between you exploding to life. The two of you fought for dominance, neither willing to back down. When you nipped at his lower lip, he welcomed your tongue with his, swallowing down your moan. The taste of alcohol and something purely Ketch flooded your senses, feeding the growing need in your belly. Gripping tight to the lapels of his jacket, you ground against the bulge in his jeans, a delicious ache building between your legs.

Ketch put an abrupt end to your teasing, his hands landing heavily on your hips as he wrenched away from your mouth with a stifled groan. “If you don’t stop that, I swear I’ll take you here and now.”

“No objections here,” you laughed breathlessly.

“No,” he growled out, “I’ve waited too long for this, and the first time I see you come will not be in the backseat of your car.”

Unlocking the door impatiently, you tossed him the keys and slid into the passenger’s seat. “Then get in and start driving- there’s bound to be a motel somewhere around here.”

Ordinarily, you would never let anyone else drive your car, but you had plans for him that involved full use of both hands. As soon as he pulled onto the street, you unbuckled your seatbelt, sliding to the floorboard. Before he could question what you were doing, you already had his belt open and were working on the fly of his jeans. Popping open the button, you eased the zipper over the erection straining underneath the metal and denim.

Ketch let out a curse when you reached a hand inside, pulling his cock free of the constraining fabric. Long and thick, you couldn’t wait to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to have him buried deep inside. Glancing up from your crouched position, you weren’t at all surprised at the death grip he had on the steering wheel, his eyes darting between you and the road.

Turning your attention to his rigid length, you licked your palm and wrapped your hand around him, giving him a few experimental pumps. Ketch let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, those hazel green eyes fluttering shut for just a second. The sound went straight to your core, your folds getting slicker by the minute. It was hard to say which of you enjoyed it more as you played around with different speeds and pressure, searching for the perfect rhythm to pull more of those sinful noises from him.

Swiping your thumb along the slit of his flushed cockhead, you ducked down to press a kiss to the tip, licking the salty taste of his skin from your lips. The car swerved sharply, horns from unseen cars honking around you. Biting back a laugh when he snarled out your name with a vicious growl, you did it again, darting your tongue out to tickle the underside of his cock.

“Bloody hell woman, are you trying to get us killed?” he bit out.

Unable to hold in a laugh, you ordered, “Pay attention to the road.”

Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock before he could respond, you moaned as the tang of him hit your tongue at long last. Bobbing up and down on his shaft, you worked him with hands and mouth, your panties sticky with arousal. Your pussy throbbed with need, causing you to clench your thighs together in bid for pressure. This- the taste of him, the little moans he made, the feel of his velvety skin on your tongue- it was everything you’d imagined it would be and so much more.

Moving faster, you began to suck at him harder, your hips rocking back and forth of their own volition. One of his hands landed on the back of your head, though he didn’t try to make you take him deeper. Somehow the weight of his hand made the whole thing even more intense; using your free hand, you reached into his clothes, massaging his balls as a reward. Ketch’s breathing was coming hard and fast by now, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Sliding off of him with a wet pop, you waited until he looked down at you to see why you stopped. Maintaining eye contact, you ran the flat of your tongue up the length of him, imagining the sight you must make: pupils blown wide with lust, lips swollen from being wrapped around his cock, the very picture of debauchery. The sight proved too much for Ketch- you could practically see the thin hold on his control snap as the hungry light in his eyes burned hotter.

Turning his attention back to the road, he eased the car to a stop, throwing it in park. Confused, you unfolded from your crouched position, groaning as blood began to flow through cramped muscles. To your surprise, he’d pulled off the street down a dark alley while you were on your knees, sheltered from the prying eyes of passerby. Killing the engine, Ketch wasted no time pulling you into his arms and taking you in a ravenous kiss.

“Damnable minx,” he growled against your lips between kisses, “almost crashed a half a dozen times- that clever tongue- this wicked mouth-”

“You weren’t complaining when I was sucking you off,” you moaned when he dipped his hands below your shirt, unhooking your bra with expert fingers.

The rough calluses on his palms caught against the delicate skin of your breasts as he kneaded them roughly. He took your nipples between thumb and forefingers, rolling and pinching as his tongue explored the nooks and crevices of your mouth. You knew he could taste himself on your tongue, and the thought just fanned the fires in your belly higher. You wanted- needed- more. In your haste, you tried straddling his lap, but there wasn’t enough room and you ended up sitting on the horn, startling the both of you.

Chuckling breathlessly, you suggested, “Backseat?”

“Backseat.”

Crawling into the back, you quipped, “What was that about not fucking me for the first time in the backseat of my car?”

“Yes well, someone was too impatient to wait,” he retorted, slapping you lightly on the ass. “I had it all planned: penthouse at the finest hotel around, scotch aged to perfection, a bed large enough to roll around in, and a jacuzzi tub for round two.”

“Save it for later, Ketch,” you panted, wiggling out of your clothes, “I need you in me now.”

“Yes ma’am. And the name is Arthur- you may as well get used to using it since you’ll be screaming it soon.”

The rush to strip was frantic and borderline dangerous as the two of you raced to shed layers of clothing in the cramped space; you nearly caught Ketch in the eye with your elbow once or twice in your haste. But finally seeing him naked was worth it, all that creamy skin on display. You drank in the sight of him, pussy fluttering in need. He took his time looking you over, lust filled eyes devouring you.

Ketch settled back against the seat, patting his thighs in invitation. It was much easier to straddle him this time as you flung a leg over his lap, leaving no room between you. He pulled you down for another kiss, tasting and teasing you, his hips rutting into yours. You rocked against him, gasping into his mouth when his cock slid through your slippery folds, sliding against your clit. Undulating on top of him, your head fell back with a moan as his hands wandered across your body. He traced random patterns into your skin, the very touch of him searing you to the core.

You were hot, burning up with need when a warm, wet mouth enveloped one of your breasts. He laved at your nipple, sucking hard before scraping his teeth against the pebbled bud. The air in the car grew heavy, the windows fogging up as you writhed in his lap. Your fingers dove for his hair, tugging at the silky strands as you pushed further into his mouth. Ketch moaned around you, one of his hands tracing along your spine. The other snaked between you, prodding at the seam of your lower lips.

“Fuck,” you gasped out when Ketch dipped two fingers inside, your slick walls stretching around him.

“That is the general idea,” he mumbled into your skin.

Twisting his slick coated digits inside your channel, Ketch fucked you on his fingertips, slow and deep. He had you writhing in no time, a low whine building low in your throat. “Ketch, fuck, need you in me.”

“Lean up for me, love. And I told you, it’s Arthur.”

Rising to your knees, you bit your lip in anticipation as he lined himself up with your entrance. The head of his cock pushed at your entrance, slick with your arousal. Rolling his hips, the first thrust was a fleeting thing that left you hungry for more. He did it again, in the mood to torment you now. Impatience got the better of you; at the next roll of his hips, you sank down as he pushed up, taking all of him in one fell swoop.

Mouth dropping open, there was no containing your little groaning gasp as he filled you. The stretch of it was amazing, the slight burn as his cock dragged along your walls the most pleasurable type of pain. Ass flush against his hips, you stilled for a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Ever the gentleman, Ketch didn’t try to rush you, his hands soothing up and down your sides. You could tell it was difficult for him to keep from thrusting into you; the muscles of his stomach clenched with restraint, his naked thighs quivering under yours. It took a minute or two, but slowly you grew accustomed to having him reach so deep.

Rocking into him to signal that you were ready, one of your hands braced against the seat while the other settled on his shoulder. “Fuck me, Arthur.”

Smirking widely at his name, he gave you a cheeky wink. “With pleasure.”

The slow withdrawal as he pulled away, followed by a sharp snap of his hips was everything you needed. There was no gradual buildup, no slow and steady rhythm- Arthur fucked you like his life depended on it, desperate and frenzied. His fingers dug into your hips, hard enough to bruise. Lust pulsed hot and strong at your center, pleasure building by the second. Neither of you was going to last long at the rate you were going, but you couldn’t find it in you to care- all that mattered was this moment.

You lost yourself in each other. The press of sweat slick skin. Low voices moaning in each other’s ears, the sound of your name falling sinful sweet from his lips when you swiveled your hips just right. The taste of each other dancing on your tongues as you kissed again and again. It was all you needed. The world outside your car didn’t matter as long as you had this.

Heat and pressure thrummed low in your belly as the pace grew more frantic still. Bouncing up and down on his cock, you were so close to release you ached with it. Taking one of his hands in yours, you guided it down to where your bodies joined, brushing over swollen clit. It was all the hint he needed, his calloused fingertips taking over as he murmured encouragements, that little cross tattoo winking up at you with every stroke.

“Fuck, just like that my little minx. So beautiful like this, fucking gorgeous. So much better than I imagined, your hot cunt wrapped around me.”

“Arthur- Arthur I-”

“Going to come for me darling? Going to come all over my cock? Let go love, let me hear you scream for me.”

He pushed down hard on your clit, and just like that you were coming, pussy clamping down around him as pleasure pulsed through your center. Toes curling and head thrown back as white hot ecstasy flooded your system, you gladly cried out for him, his name torn from your throat with a gasp. He fucked you through it, his lips landing hot where your neck and shoulders meet, biting and sucking his mark for all the world to see. His cock throbbed deep, deep inside, signaling he was close to his own end.

Nails raking down his back and chest, you ground down on him, eager to feel him come undone in your arms. “Come for me, Arthur, want you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, curling forward as his hips stuttered to a stop.

The hand playing with your clit dragged across your thigh, smearing your slick everywhere. Warmth bloomed deep in your core as he released inside you, ropes of come filling your channel. Your walls fluttered around him, milking him of all he had to give as you crooned in his ear, nipping at the lobe before licking away the sting. The sound of his ragged breaths in your ear was more enticing than it had any right to be.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, clinging to each other as you rode out the last waves of pleasure. The humid air in the car gradually gave way to the cooling temperatures outside, raising up goosebumps across your naked body. He didn’t miss the way you shivered, pulling you impossibly closer, his arms shielding you from the cold. You nuzzled into the heat of him, sated but not yet satisfied.

“So…about that penthouse…”


End file.
